


a Heaven more like the Earth

by rumpleghost (softlyforgotten)



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlyforgotten/pseuds/rumpleghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Downton Abbey's fall into superstition leaves the Countess in a state of great dismay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a Heaven more like the Earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newredshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newredshoes/gifts).



> Title most cheekily stolen from Emily Brontë; my apologies.

The Right Honourable Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham, adjusted her skirts, tapped her stick on the ground and _hem-hemmed_.

"Out of the question," she said. "For one, they are very late indeed."

Sybil clutched at the arms of her chair in a common sort of manner. Violet did not approve at all, except that Sybil was, she suspected, holding onto the furniture with such disagreeable vivacity to keep from that incredibly irritating bouncing that Violet had already reprimanded her about.

"It's not a _dinner_ party, Grandmother," she said earnestly. "They hardly need invitations. And I don't suppose they get to _choose_ when they're going to show up. It must be – oh, such a wild, frightening existence, forever lost, never able to taste again the sweetness of honey or feel the warmth of the hearth—"

"The warmth of the _what_?" Violet demanded. "Sybil, I do not know what to blame for the way you talk, but it would please me if you stopped it immediately."

"Iknow what to blame," Mary murmured over the rim of her teacup. Violet shot a sharp look at her, but determined to have it out later. At any rate, the comment had the benefit of making Sybil flush and subside into guilty silence.

"I agree with Grandmother," Edith announced. Violet only wished she didn't have to sound so defiant about it; it was quite correct of her. "There's no need to lose our heads over a few misplaced hair pins. Has Mrs Hughes hired any new maidservants, perhaps? They might simply be adjusting to the household."

"It's not just the hairpins," Sybil said. "It's the wind in the curtains and the doors slamming and I saw her, I _saw_ her. In my mirror!"

"Don't work yourself up, Sybil dear," Violet said. It was cold in the parlour, and she tucked her shawl around her and shot a reproving look at where Cora sat comfortably ensconced in blankets, reading the newspaper and apparently taking no interest whatsoever in the conversation. Violet knew better, of course. She had long given up hope that Cora was simple, or even uninterested.

"I'm sure I saw her," Sybil said. " _And_ she stole my trousers."

Violet touched her fingers to her lips. She hoped she was not smiling too obviously. "Well, at least our imaginary presence has taste," she said, and resolved to give Mrs O'Brien some token of gratitude when next she saw her.

Mary sighed. "The truth of the matter is, silly as it sounds, I do believe I saw her too."

"Oh, Mary," Violet said, dismayed. She had so hoped to have someone on the side of reason.

There was Edith, she reminded herself. But much as a grandmother would not pick favourites, she had to be aware that Edith was very rarely a _useful_ asset.

"I know," Mary said, "and before this morning, I would never even have thought it possible, but it was very convincing."

"What happened, Mary?" Sybil asked, leaning forward. Edith was attempting to look unimpressed, though Violet did not miss the nervous glances Edith was directing at the door and window. There was a storm gathering outside. Violet really wished the weather might be more considerate and save its atmospheric gloom for days when the girls simply wanted to go on inappropriate outings.

Mary took a careful sip of her tea. "I am afraid I might offend my grandmother."

"I will allow it," Violet said. There would be no keeping this quiet now; better that Mary say it while Violet was still here to quash it.

"The fact of the matter is," Mary said, "she swept through my room, gave me a look as if to suggest that it was ridiculous I was still in bed at this hour, and then continued on through my door and disappeared. But I heard her shout."

"What did she say?" Sybil asked, somewhat breathless.

"She said 'go to hell, Branwell'."

Edith said, "Oh, it's her! It's her! It has to be her! Oh, mother, I'm so excited! Do you think she will speak to me?"

Cora rustled her paper and said, very carefully indeed, "With whom would you like to speak, my dear? Some friend up to dinner one night?"

"Edith," Violet snapped. "Stop this nonsense at once. We are nowhere near their home. It makes absolutely no sense that she should be here. Besides which, I pride myself on having level-headed, sensible granddaughters. Surely you can see this is all superstitious nonsense?"

"I wonder if she will teach me how to write," Sybil said dreamily. "I should so like to write."

" _Sybil_ ," Violet said, shocked. "I would be very grateful if you kept your hysterics from leading you into such revolting ideas!"

"It seems to me," Cora said, "that we are all getting a little overwrought. Let me have Anna bring up some fresh tea and biscuits and we can discuss this calmly. Mary, Sybil, I am sure there is a perfectly rational explanation for all of this, and you need not so disturb your grandmother with wild ideas. Let's remember that we are ladies, if you please."

Edith and Sybil went quiet, flushing. Mary looked coolly amused.

Cora did have a firm hand with her children, Violet would concede. She was very good at keeping firm hold of the bridles of nervous, twittering girls, and Violet would not pretend she was not grateful for that. She absolutely did not have the _patience_ for it at her age.

Mary turned the conversation to a gentle enquiry about news with the hospital and how Cora and Violet were dealing with the indefatigable Mrs Crawley. Violet could not help but admire Mary, too, growing past the need to bully her sisters into submission and realising instead the virtue of a guiding hand that was impossible to escape. Mary would run a very fine home one day.

Still, for all the younger generation's virtues, the tea was late. Violet sniffed. Such sloppy housekeeping would never have taken place under her own reign at Downton.

"I'm very sorry, my lady," Mrs Hughes said, arriving at last with a tea tray. "Here's the tea. I apologise for keeping you all waiting."

"Goodness, Mrs Hughes," Cora said, staring at her. "Why on earth have you brought this up yourself? Where's Anna?"

"I'm afraid there's some confusion in the kitchens just now," Mrs Hughes said. "Anna is with Daisy. Daisy and Mrs Patmore are a trifle upset."

"Oh, dear," Cora said. "I hope nothing terrible has happened?"

"Just a little silliness, I think," Mrs Hughes said, lips pressing firmly together. "I hope it will all be under control soon."

"What sort of silliness?" Sibyl asked, eyes alight.

Mrs Hughes looked uncomfortable a moment and then said, "Daisy and Mrs Patmore seem to be under the impression that they're being haunted."

Edith made a small, quavering noise of distress. Sibyl looked delighted.

"Really," Mary said, voice rich with amusement.

Violet said, "I hope you have cured them of such delusions?"

"I hope so, Countess," Mrs Hughes said. "I told them that even if ghosts _were_ to exist, which they do not, I could see no reason whatsoever for Charlotte Brontë to upend saucepans upon their head."

Sybil clapped her hands in delight. "I _knew_ it!"

"Are we going to die?" Edith asked, white-faced. "Are they here to kill us? Are they going to commit revenge?"

"What could we have possibly done to them?" Mary asked. "I haven't even read any of their work."

Sybil opened her mouth, but Mary shot her a dark look and Sybil closed it again, looking as though she was trying not to laugh. They were so _lively_ , these girls. Violet had _warned_ Robert about the dangers of marrying an American, but he had never once listened to her. She hoped he remembered her little pieces of advice wistfully now.

"My lady?" Mrs Hughes said.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Hughes," Cora said. "Please convey my full sympathies to Daisy and Mrs Patmore and tell them I hope they have recovered from their fright. I suspect there may be a problem with the plumbing or the electricity at Downton; I hope we will all have it under control as soon as possible. Be gentle with them; they may have the afternoon off until dinner, if it will not be too much of a burden for you."

"Not at all, my lady," Mrs Hughes said, and left them to it.

"I knew no good would come of having electricity installed," Violet said darkly. "This would never have happened when I was at Downton."

Cora looked amused. "You think our installing electricity was an invitation for ghosts?"

"I cannot see that it would have done any good," Violet said.

"Even so," Cora said, "I do not think any of us can be blamed for when or how Downton was… ah, due for a haunting."

"Well," Violet said, rising to her feet and gathering her skirts to sweep out of the room, "if there _had_ been ghosts during my time at Downton, they would never have been _novelists_."


End file.
